


The Death of Me

by TransientGuest



Category: Original Work
Genre: Execution, Interracial Relationship, M/M, Prejudice, Royalty, Theft, vampire
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-11
Updated: 2015-09-11
Packaged: 2018-04-20 04:48:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,763
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4774115
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TransientGuest/pseuds/TransientGuest
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I had a fairly ordinary life as a servant.  Until James Porter came along.  Well, okay there's nothing wrong with him.  It's his mother.  And she wants me dead.  If it wasn't for James, she would have gotten her wish.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Death of Me

I woke up to find a girl riding me like a jockey rides a race horse. She was shining with sweat and making grunting noises.

_  
Disgusting._

_  
_It took me about a second to piece together exactly what was happening to me as I came out of my sleepy haze.

I decided this "incident" would be the worst day of my life. Had anyone told me then that this _pleasant_ little event would be second best in a few short years I would have laughed in their face...  
Or punched them...

Okay, I definitely would have punched them...Anyway.

It was a servant girl who raped me. A common field wench. the kind who was up early and spent all day in the blistering sun. Their skin tan and hardened from that orb in the sky literally baking them day in and day out.

She drugged my meal and tied me up after I had fallen asleep. I woke up near the end of it. And found her sitting on me. I sluggishly realized my predicament... and had never felt so much shame in my life. So helpless. And absolutely disgusted in myself for reacting. I could do nothing but wait for her to finish, hoping to God that it would all be over soon.

When she had finished me off and was done herself, she gave me a quick sneer and the most disgustingly smug smile I have ever laid eyes on, and just left me. Bound to my bed. Defiled and deflowered. I'm not too macho to admit as I laid there bound and used, that I cried myself to sleep. It had been my first time. The first time shouldn't be like that. It should _never_ be like that. _But it was._

The master of the house found me there the next morning tied just the way she left me. He made no comment on my appearance, of the bindings on my wrists and ankles or the tear tracks down my face. He just untied me. Somehow the silence made my feeling of shame worsen. Surely he could see what had happened, what had transpired a few short hours ago in this room. On this bed. Shouldn't he be angry?

I asked him about it and got a shrug in response. He said I should be glad for the attention of the girl. Not many would even think of looking at a person like myself. Let alone sleep with them.

"She's our best field worker. Knows exactly when to pick the fruits. And boy does she have a fine pair of melons." He had said a lewd grin on his aristocratic face.

He was a lecherous bastard and yet he was the closest thing I had to a friend in this place. Nobody else wanted anything to do with the half-blood who was too smart for his own good. His wife hated me and I knew the only reason I even had the position of his personal servant was because he valued my opinions and skills. He was the only one who did. Maybe it was because we had grown up together. My mother traveled from Persia and through rotten luck wound up pregnant and in the service of my master's family. She never complained about our situation. But she had insisted that I was taught alongside my master. I learned to read and write, even ride horses all because of her insistence. For that I loved her.

I'm often told how much I look like her. The master has told me often enough that if I hadn't inherited my mother's dark skin and the unfortunate freckles from my English father I could have easily passed as a lord or other such noble. I always thought my mother was beautiful enough to be a queen, but I didn't see any resemblance between the two of us. She was lovely. I was ugly... a _mistake_. So many people had told me that over the years, I knew it must be true.

After I was untied from the bed, those ropes had been tight if I ever found out who taught her how to tie knots I'd have a few choice words to say to them, I was sent to work. The master deemed me physically well enough to complete my usual assigned activities. Meanwhile my mind was in turmoil, constantly replaying the scene, trying to figure out a way it could have been avoided.

Life slowly started to return to normal. I thought the I had seen the last of that situation, but after three months the issue returned. Much to the master's and my discomfort.

It turned out that the field girl was with child. One night was apparently all it took. She was pulled out of her activities and taken to see the master.

His ruling was absolute. She would have the child and "bugger off" as he so nicely put it, leaving the child in my care. And that's how I came to have Sareh.

 

**_3 Years Later_ **

From the first moment I saw her I had thought she was beautiful, my bright from the darkest day of my life. Now as she lay on the floor of my room sleeping, I couldn't help but think it again. She was beautiful with that short, gently curled black hair that framed her angelic face perfectly. And her skin. So much paler than my own, thank goodness. With the master's help she might be able to make something of herself. And my heart felt happy knowing she wouldn't be looked down upon for the color of her skin. If her eyes were open a rich warm brown would have been visible. Those eyes that always seemed to be alight with mischievous excitement. I know in a few years I'm going to have my hands full.

Have I mentioned how beautiful she is?

And I made her.

Still to this day I wonder about her mother. Was she sold because of what she did to me or was it because she was unable to work properly while pregnant? probably the latter.

The master made it clear that night that I should have been happy for that _attention_. I still don't see how anyone could enjoy _that_.

"Asho," the commanding voice of the master brought me out of my dreamings. Didn't even bother knocking on my door, just came right in, "a word please."

He motioned for me to follow him out of my room. Not really sure what the point of him even entering it was, if we were just going to turn right around and head toward the common area. But we didn't stop there like I thought we were going to. Probably too populated. I saw a maid dusting the furniture and a male servant straightening pictures giving her none too subtle googly eyes. The sexual tension was so thick it was suffocating. If the master wanted this talk to be private we'd be heading for the kitchen.

Lo and behold, a few minutes later, we were there. It was a decent size, I suppose. Nice sized stove, lots of counter space. I decided to make a seat out of some of the ample counter space. Might as well get comfortable. The master tended to be long winded when he finally decided to actually _begin_ talking.

I didn't know why he was beating around the bush. I knew exactly why he called me in here. It was the same reason he _always_ called me in here. _He_ was coming to visit. James Porter was coming to the estate.

He took in a deep breath "Mr. Porter is coming for a visit," he said in a rush glancing worriedly at me. I don't know if he thought saying it fast like that was going to make it any easier... because it definitely didn't. Not in the slightest.

"When will he get here?" I asked not even pretending to be shocked by the news.

"Tonight," he squeaked.

"What! Why so suddenly?" I shouted. He seemed to shrink under my gaze, so much for being the authoritative figure around here. He gave a sigh and ran a hand through his hair.

"Said it's to 'visit'. I personally think he's doing it to see you again," smirking the master left the kitchen while I glowered at the stupid pots that were hanging directly above the stove. They would feel my displeasure of the situation, I'd make sure of it.

My master wasn't kidding when he said Mr. Porter was probably coming to see me. You see to put it frankly, he has the hots for me. All my tripping and clumsiness must look pretty damn sexy to him. From the moment he first visited he stared at me with those unbelievably green eyes, boring holes right into my soul. He'd look at me and smirk, as if waiting for me to take one step out of line. And honestly, he probably was. He relished in me making mistakes, especially when they brought me closer to him. I've been in countless awkward positions and conversations because of my slip ups. Heck the first time we spoke to each other was because I tripped and fell into him as I was leading him to his room. I'm still trying to figure out how that happened since I was in front of him the whole time.

There was something about the man though. Even though he was pleasant enough and most of the time had a grin on his face and a smile in his eyes, something just seemed...off. Mr. Porter had an aura that unnerved me. He wasn't scary, far from it. I found myself liking him and enjoying the secret intellectual talks we had. I could hope for nothing more than those brief encounters, anything else would surely turn into a scandal. He may be willing to risk the tarnish on his reputation, but I knew the master would never forgive me if I accepted or encouraged Mr. Porter's advances, as much as I might want to.

So I have no problem with Mr. Porter. The reason I dread his visits so much stems from the person who always accompanies him on all of his outings.  
His mother.

She treated me like a mongrel. I could live with that, if it were only that, but she also absolutely _hated_ Sareh. If she so much as saw my daughter again she promised me Sareh would no longer be of my concern. She'd be taken from me.

That threat scared me more than anything else on this planet. I knew she was serious.

Before long it was time to go out and greet the guests. They always came late at night, preferring to travel when the heat of midday wasn't bearing down on them. Or at least that's the excuse Mr. Porter offered for their late arrival time and time again.

Sareh was still in my room, curled up on the floor sleeping away. I hadn't the heart to wake her. The Porter's would not need to go anywhere near my room. She'd be fine.

The master was standing next to me. As we were getting ready to walk toward the carriage he grasped my shoulders, turning me to face him. "Keep Sareh out of sight," he whispered gently. Upon seeing the terror in my eyes he added a quick apology for the short notice. "Stay strong. I'll make sure this is a quick visit."

I stood at the entrance of the mansion dressed in my finest outfit. My hair was tied back, after the master's insistence, with a dark blue ribbon that matched my eyes perfectly. The master stood slightly in front of me, a large fake grin upon his face. As the carriage sat there, waiting only for us to greet the people inside, my stomach twisted into knots. I leaned against one of the pillars of the entranceway for support.

I took a good look at the vehicle. Figures it would be pulled by pure white horses. Six of them. And the carriage itself was a pristine milk color lined with gold leaf. Actually there was a lot of gold. The door was ornately decorated with it. A scene of spring with intricately crafted flowers spoke of an artist of amazing skill.

The driver moved around and opened the door of the carriage. And was stunned when the thing slammed open hitting him in the face. I tried to hide my laughter very unsuccessfully as James Porter came bouncing down the steps. He had a spring in his step that didn't fail to rock the vehicle to and fro as he descended the three steps. I heard an indignant squawk from inside and smiled to myself. I looked at him to see that famous mischievous smile upon his otherwise handsome face. The grin never failed to make him look like a clown. He exchanged pleasantries with the master then glanced my way and winked.

He watched me for a reaction and wasn't disappointed. My face was hot. I probably looked like a tomato. In my defense, I'm pretty sure a glacier would have melted if he were flirting with it. Even with that stupid grin. His grin got even wider. Probably knew what I was thinking.

Satisfied, he linked arms with the master, throwing the man completely off guard and started dragging him to the door. I turned to follow behind the master, like a good little servant.

Before I could even complete the turn I saw her. _Sareh_. My heart jumped into my stomach. It took everything in me not to vomit the cursed organ up. She was heading straight for the carriage. More specifically the carriage door. The one that Mrs. Porter was currently getting out of. And there was Sareh, completely oblivious of what was at stake here, being her bubbly self laughing and dancing her way straight toward that devil of a woman.

I made a strangled gasp and scrambled after my child. I'm too slow though, much too slow for the speed of a toddler. I watched in horror as she touched the ruffled fringe of Mrs. Porter's outfit. "Ooh. Pretty Dress," my daughter squealed at the cross old woman. Mrs. Porter sneered. Making a face that could melt the skin off of the strongest of men she raised her foot to kick Sareh.

It was coming down full force toward my daughters head when I finally reached her. I protected her and got a shoe in the face for my efforts. I fell to the ground disoriented. Felt something liquid coming out of my nose.

"Daddy you're bleeding," Sareh cried touching my cheek.

"It's okay _Magbol_ , Daddy's jus-"

"How dare you, you mongrel thief," she screeched indignantly.

_Thief?_ What the hell was she on about now?

I had no time to think further than that. Sometime during my assault the driver/doorman came over to the woman. He grabbed me and beat me into a standing position. Sareh cried as we were pushed into the carriage.

The door closed behind us and we were plunged into darkness. A match was lit illuminating the face of the driver. He wore a smile that was badly distorted by the small flame. I didn't know about Sareh, but I'd have nightmares after seeing that ugly mug. I set Sareh behind me, as the man began to talk. "Sorry for the rough treatment there sir. Yeh see, the lady lost something and since you're the only one here who had crap for parents, she recons it's you who's stolen the goods." My blood boiled at his words. I didn't care what he said about my father or me, but he better not insult my mother. He shook the match before it could burn his fingers or before I could lunge to punch him. Pity.

No sooner had the match gone out than I was punched in the face. Hard. My nose, that had began to stop bleeding started again, like a faucet. I stumbled back and hit the seat, majorly disoriented. I was feeling light headed after the multiple blows to the head. Hands wrapped around my throat. I tried to yell, but it came out garbled. Sareh was crying and screaming for me in the background. I tried to get away. clawed at the hands around my neck. The man tightened his grip around my neck and ground out through gritted teeth "Now there'll be none of that, sir."

I thought dimly that it was kind of ironic that he was being so polite... as he slammed my head against the wall. The carriage rocked with the force of the blow. I continued to claw at his hand, arms, hell anything I could reach. Think I might have gotten his face at some point. One, two, three more times he smashed my head into the wall. I felt myself grow weaker. Heard Sareh's worried cry of Daddy. Everything went black.

I woke up groggy and dimly aware that something was not right. I had a killer headache. On top of that my face _hurt_. I was seated in a very uncomfortable position, but when I tried to move, realized that I was chained. My eyes shot open in panic. Last time I woke up unable to move it didn't go well. But that's not what greeted me when I opened my eyes. there was bright light. Natural light, from a small window with bars. My eyes watered and I blinked them a few times trying to adjust to the light. I was in a cell. Four walls, three of them solid, one made of metal bars placed closely together. Yep definitely a cell. I'd venture so far as to say prison. But I hadn't done anything wrong. My mind flashed to Mrs. Porter the night before. Thief she had called me. Maybe that's why I'm here. But I'd never stolen anything in my life. I wasn't that desperate.

"Daddy you're alive!" a shrill cry of happiness was all the warning I got before Sareh was in my lap, bouncing gleefully. She hugged me. "I thought you were dead. You've been asleep so long like a billion days! Mr. Porter said you were just sleeping, but I've never seen you sleep so long, and usually you're face isn't purple and you don't make those little pained gasps when you breathe or anything like that, but it doesn't matter because you're alive. Now Mr. Porter can still be my friend, I told him if he was lying to me and you were dead that he couldn't be my friend anymore, but he didn't lie so it's okay and," she paused for breath, I was convinced she was going to pass out before that happened. I didn't know what to make of all she had said. Wasn't even sure if I was glad she was here. She was with me, but we were in prison. My child was in prison.

"Daddy, are you crying?" I hadn't even realized it, but I was. She reached up and wiped my tears away, an innocent gesture that nearly broke my heart. She didn't belong here. "It's okay. I won't be friends with Mr. Porter if you don't want me to."

"No, Sareh, you can be his friend it's okay," I tried my best to smile, but I'm sure it didn't look too reassuring. I winced. Couldn't even smile without my face being in pain.

Sareh seemed satisfied by that though," Oh good because he's coming back here tonight. I told him he could come, not like it would have mattered if I didn't he's been here every night waiting for you to wake up at least that's what I think he's doing he's been here every night and every night you didn't wake up he's left looking really, really sad. I think he likes you. Do you like him, I like him, can he be a second Daddy?" I almost choked at that question. "I think he wants to be a second Daddy. I asked him if he did and he said that it was up to you. I like him, he's nice. he said I can call him James, but that's really weird that would be like calling you by your first name...I don't even know what that is..." she seemed deep in thought, probably trying to figure out what my name was.

I started laughing. She was my light in the darkest of times. "Sareh, you're an angel," I said fondly. She just smiled a big toothy grin and hopped off my lap. I could see in one of the corners some dolls. She went to them and started playing with them. No doubt Mr. Porter's doing. I'd have to remember to thank him for those, and for keeping Sareh company. He really was a good man.

But if he was such a good man why were we even in here? A part of me, the more rational part, knew that he really had nothing to do with us being here, but I needed to place the blame on someone and he was an easy target.

The day passed slowly. I had nothing to do but sit where I was chained and wait for something to happen. I watched Sareh play with the dolls a lot and just daydreamed. I wondered how the master was doing, hoping that this little fiasco, or whatever it was, hadn't caused him too much of a headache. Somehow I doubted that I'd be going back there, no matter the outcome of this whole ordeal, neither Sareh nor I would be going back to that house. If we were lucky we'd be sold together, but I seriously doubted that luck would be on my side. I hadn't had the best of it so far in life. I can't think of another my age who has had so much strife, but I didn't know many people. Probably part of the whole servant thing.

I must have drifted off, because the next thing I knew I was being shaken awake. "Daddy, Mr. Porter's here to see you."

I blinked a couple times clearing the sleep away from my eyes. And there he was, seated right in front of me in a plain wooden chair.

James Porter sat there. With that annoying smile playing at his lips. he looked way too composed for the current location and situation. He was dressed simply. No coat or tie, just a nice loose fitting cotton shirt and a pair of trousers that looked to be tight. his legs were crossed and he was bouncing his raised foot up and down, probably a nervous habit.

"Hello, Asho," he greeted happily. His expressions did a one eighty and suddenly he looked somber, "I'm sorry." I had planned to rip into him when he got here tonight. Wanted to blame everything on him, but those two little words spoken so calmly, so sincerely, combined with those eyes. They looked at me with such a mix of emotions, hoping for forgiveness of wrongs that he hadn't even committed, truth for the words he had spoken and overwhelming sorrow. If I could move I would have embraced him. As it were, I hoped the look I gave him said enough.

He looked at me in surprise, like he knew what I had just thought. Then he smacked himself in the head. "How silly of me," he laughed in a rather aloof manner, "here I am apologizing, and you can scarcely move." He pulled a pick from his pocket and began unfastening my hands. "I'm sorry to say when I leave here, you'll have to go back in those, but I can offer you some temporary relief from the discomfort." He worked quickly and soon I was squeezing my hands and rotating my wrists trying to gain normal movement in the extremities. The shackles were tight!

I sat there calmly just staring straight at Mr. Porter as he continued to beam at me. Slowly the smile fell from his face. He looked worn out. "Can I ask you a question?"

"You just did, Mr. Porter," I gave a little half smile.

"Please call me James, and alright another question," he said easily.

Why not? I nodded my consent.

"Do you even know why you're here?"

If that wasn't a loaded question, I didn't know what was. I wasn't sure how to answer it. "I'm in prison, right?" He nodded.

"How long have I been here? Sareh said something like a billion days, but I'm pretty sure that's not accurate," I tried to joke.

He smiled at my feeble attempt at levity, but then again, when wasn't the man smiling? "This is the fifth night."

" _Shit_ ," I hissed running a hand through my hair.

"Yeah, but do you know why you're here?" repeated the man reaching out to put a comforting hand upon my knee. He held up a piece of jewelry, maybe an earring. I wasn't sure exactly what it was but it was ugly. It shined and was mostly diamond, or all diamond. There were two different colors clear sparkly and snot green sparkly. I knitted my eyebrows together in confusion. Was this supposed to mean something to me?

"No, enlighten me, James. Why am I here?" I said snottily. Boy it was weird saying his name.

"See this," he motioned to the grossness in his hand, "this is what got you here. Apparently you stole this from Mrs. Porter, God knows why you'd want it."

I felt outrage at his words, "I've never stolen anything in my life," crossing my arms I pouted like a petulant child.

James sighed, "I had a feeling you'd say that Asho. The worst part is I know you're telling the truth. It was that blasted driver, but mother, well I'm sure you know this but she's been after you for a long time. Doesn't like 'mongrels' mixing with the bluebloods. Which doesn't even make sense, you're a prince for Christ's sake"

What? Was this guy on something. I'm a servant. and I said as much.

He looked at me sadly, pity in his gaze. "You mean no one ever told you."

"Told me what, exactly?"

"Your mother was a princess in Persia, you her first born son, she was the first wife. By their rights that made you first in line for the throne. You have royalty in your blood," he explained. I almost wished he hadn't. I was fine ignorant. Now I felt lost like my whole life had been a lie. Hell, it had been a lie. I covered my face with my hands, breathing in deeply, trying to calm myself down.

Arms encircled me, making me feel warm and safe. His head resting on my hair. " _Why_?" I all but sobbed.

" _Shh_ ," he cooed. "She wanted you to know. Was going to tell you herself when you came of age but..." He trailed off there. He knew as well as I did why that never happened. She died.

There was something else I needed to know. "What's my sentence? What's the punishment for my crime?" I asked hoarsely.

He squeezed me tighter. Great, now I'm nervous. " _Oh, Asho_ , I'm _so_ sorry."

My throat clenched, "How bad is it James?"

" _Death,_ " he breathed.

It's amazing how that one word carries such an impact. My stomach dropped clear out of my body. If I had eaten recently I would have spewed. I was afraid for myself and Sareh. I glanced over to my daughter. she had fallen asleep, cuddling the dolls protectively. I asked my next question calmly, "What's going to happen to Sareh?"

"She has the same sentence," came the answer I was afraid of hearing.

I couldn't even form a response. my throat closed up and I grasped desperately at James. Holding onto him tightly, I cried there, wept for myself and my child. How could something like this happen? We were _innocent_.

"Is there any way to save her?" my voice sounded dead even to my own ears.

He gave me a loaded look, filled with an emotion I couldn't identify, "I'm trying to get you out of this. Trying to find a way out, but my mother and the Constable are fighting me. They found you with the broach in your pocket, and the driver claims you beat him up so he was defending himself. They added assault to the theft and claimed that Sareh was an accomplice in the whole thing. You're to be executed tomorrow."

"This really is a hopeless situation?" I laughed humorlessly.

"Asho, don't give up. everything is going to end up alright. I'm sure someone will take Sareh and keep her safe. As for you, if I can't save you before death, you have my word that I won't let you stay dead."

I didn't understand half of what James had said. He said Sareh would be safe. That was the most important to me. But, save me after death? That didn't make sense.

He sat next to me on the cell bench and stroked my hair. I curled up into his safe warmth. All my worries melted away under the gentle touch of his fingers. Before I knew it I was sleeping peacefully.

Waking came slowly the next morning. A part of me decided they couldn't hang us today if I refused to admit that the day had come. I knew I was being delusional, but it seemed so much better than the reality of the situation. The truth was plain and simple: we were going to die. Me, Sareh, were both dead. Unless a miracle happened and James Porter was able to pull through, somehow, we were guaranteed to be with my mother by nightfall.

The constable came and got us midday. He had a stern look on his face when he turned to me, but when he looked at Sareh, his gaze softened. T hat look alone told me all I needed to know. Sareh would be alright. If the man who kept us here is this sympathetic, there would definitely be someone in the crowd of onlookers who would take her in. There was no chance for me. How often do you hear of people adopting twenty-three year old men? I know the statistics, and let's just say they're not in my favor.

"Time to go," he spoke gruffly. He let me pick up Sareh and then tied my hands in their position around my child. In that manner I carried her the short way from the jail to the gallows in the center of the small town. "Haven't seen this many people at a public execution in a long time," he was trying to make small talk. It was a very poor subject choice if you ask me. I didn't reply. Not taking the hint he continued to prattle. "You sure pissed off the wrong people. What I don't understand is that Mr. Porter. Ye'd think he'd be up in arms over someone like you stealing from his Momma, but he seemed more upset that yer scrawny ass was being executed. Yeah well, to each their own."

We pushed our way through the large throng of bystanders. The town wasn't very large, but everyone seemed to be present. Even some outsiders were here to watch. Must have been Mrs. Porter's acquaintances. Once we got to the gallows I was told to stand near the support beam and wait. After taking Sareh from me they tied my wrists to the wood and set her next to me. She had been quiet all morning. I glanced to her and saw silent tears rolling down her face. This was killing me. She shouldn't be here.

The people there watched with bated breath. Their excitement was freaking me out. How could anybody be excited to see something like this happen. It was one thing to hear about somebody being put to death. It was another entirely to see it happen. The constable stepped forward addressing the crowd. "Now, I know you're all here to see a hanging," the crowd cheered "but the executioner is running a bit late. He'll git here 'round six tonight. S'if I was you, I'd go about my business 'til later en then we'll have ourselves a nice little show," most of them left at that news. Some muttering about having to wait, others angry that the constable couldn't just get rid of us. Every once in a while there was a quiet whisper of pity.

After most of the people were gone an elderly woman walked up to me. She was dressed finely, her face powdered and hair done up all fancy. Definitely a respectable member of society. "Young man, I have a question to ask you," she stated. her voice quivered with age, but held more strength than someone half her age. "Did you do it?"

Sorrow exploded from me and I pushed it all into the on worded answer I directed back at her, " _No_ ," and now the tears were back, flowing down my face.

"Thank you," she said and left. What the hell was that? I didn't care enough to think about it. I had more important things to worry about. The evening was drawing nearer and still Sareh and I were going to die. James Porter had yet to show his annoyingly happy mug and I wondered if I'd see him or if he decided to leave us.

I started paying more attention to my surroundings when the people started coming back. First it was a trickle, a few here and there, but as id grew closer they flooded the area, surrounding the gallows from all sides.

There was a tug on my wrists. I was being untied, led over to the noose. It was fitted around my neck. Next to me the same thing was happening to Sareh. Jesus, God, it was happening. They were reading out Sareh's crimes. She was going first. I didn't know what to do. Was there anything I could do to save her, to keep her alive. The executioner's hand went to the lever. "Unhand that lever," a strong voice bellowed. The man jumped back as if burned.

Walking up to the platform was the old woman from earlier. "This child will be in my custody from now on," she commanded. There was a definite "or else" tagged on the end there. She undid Sareh's bindings and picked her up.

"Thank you," I whispered. At least Sareh would be okay. This was a good woman standing in front of me. She brought my daughter close enough for a hug. I couldn't embrace her but her little arms wrapped around me tightly.

"I love you Daddy," sobbed the little girl.

My teary reply was the same, "I love you too, baby girl. Behave for the nice lady. She's going to take care of you while I'm away." My heart shattered into a million pieces and littering the platform. It was stepped on by the executioner as he came over to the lever by me. he was grumbling about how he better get to kill one person today, after they made him get out of bed.

They read my crimes. The seconds seemed to drag on and on. Time passing slowly as I waited for death to greet me. The sun was long since setting, maybe they'd wait until then to finish me. It would hopefully be quick. just needed to break one bone and I'd suffocate. I was hoping for a massive break that would kill me instantly.

I saw somebody pushing their way through the crowd. It was James. Sareh saw him too. I heard shouting. Frantic voices. Sareh screamed, "Mr. Porter, Mr. Porter! Save Daddy."

"Asho," he yelled.

The hangman pulled the lever.

"Asho, _no!_ "

" _Daddy!_ "

There was immense pain. _My neck._

I knew no more.

**_James Porter_ **

Shit. _Shit, fuck._ They _killed_ him. They actually killed him right in front of me. I was there to _save_ him. And now he's dead. I knew what had to be done. I promised him after all. I'd save him even if he died. But he couldn't be all the way dead. If he was it wouldn't work.

The executioner grabbed his body and flung it up over his shoulder. Asho flopped like a rag doll, my stomach felt queasy. Too much longer and he'd be dead for real. He was thrown back into his jail cell. This was all the viewing that a criminal got. Nobody cared about them anyway. They'd be back in thirty minutes to pick up the body and bury him.

I had to move quickly.

I got into the stall using my trusty lock picks and hastened to Asho's side. He was already starting to lose his warmth. His beautiful complexion now quite waxy and ashen. _Shit,_ this better work.

I cradled him in my arms rocking him slightly and explaining to him what I was going to do. I knew there would be no reply, but I had always imagined doing this after gaining his permission. I leaned toward him, nuzzling my face into the crook of his neck. Damn, but he smelled good. I licked his skin once, lovingly before tentatively biting into his neck.

His blood was like nothing I had ever tasted before. It was amazing so sweet and pure. I could practically taste the royalty in his blood. Real blueblood. I continued to suck until he was almost devoid of blood. Then I hastily used one of my fangs to cut my wrist open. He had to drink mine too for this to work.

I placed my wrist at his lips and moved them aside with my other hand. The blood needed to go down his throat, and I'd make sure that happened. I watched for some sign of life as my blood poured down his throat. Occasionally, when his mouth was full, I'd help him swallow, but no matter how much blood I gave he didn't wake up. I willed him to live, begged him. He lay there unmoving and oblivious to my strife. I stopped shortly before I would have passed out. _Dammit_ , I was too late. He was _dead_. really dead. This wasn't how this was supposed to work. He wasn't even supposed to be hanged. But Asho couldn't be dead. We were supposed to have a future together. Take care of Sareh together. And now he was gone and I was alone.

Nobody went to the funeral, not even his fucking master. I watched from afar as his plain coffin was lowered into the ground in front of a headstone with his name on it. Asho Paria, too damn young, too damn beautiful to die. Dawn was approaching, I had to retire for the day but I vowed to stay by his grave the next night and mourn my loss.

**_Asho_ **

I was hungry. I don't think I have ever been this hungry in my life. It was dark, but that didn't matter much. I tried to sit up, made it about six inches and then hit my head on some wood. Some dirt fell through a crack and I sneezed banging my head off the wood below me. Great I was in a wooden box, underground. Yet, I wasn't panicking. _weird._

I thought I had died. Was quite certain the executioner finished me right as James Porter came to the area. That couldn't have been right. I was alive, and trapped in a box. Was this some kind of new punishment? They decided that the gallows was too friendly a death so nailed me into a box and covered it in dirt? To starve to death. Sounded like a good plan to me. I am however a little sorry to be the one on this side of it. Think I got the short end of the deal.

Pushing against the top of the box, I rejoiced when I felt it give a little. If I used more strength I might be able to get out of it... and suffocate on the dirt. Yep, sounded like a good idea to me. But I needed out. My stomach ached. A crippling pain left me trying to fold in on myself. Obviously this didn't work too well. My leg got a scrape.

A wonderful smell assaulted my nostrils. What _was_ it? It smelled amazing. My stomach gave a pang. Whatever it was needed to be in my stomach. Now. What had changed since I've been in here? My stomach ached, no. Dirt fell on my head. Definitely not the dirt I smell. I got a cut on my led, minor in the scheme of things, you know with being trapped in a box... underground. still I suppose the wound is bleeding. It took me a while to realize it was blood that I was smelling. My blood. From the little scratch on my leg. Morbidly fascinated, I wondered if it would taste good. Would it make my stomach stop trying to eat me from the inside?

I maneuvered my hand up toward my mouth and bit into my wrist. The pain was there. but the pleasure I got from the pleasing liquid was worth it. The liquid was like nothing I had ever tasted before. It was thick, like hot chocolate and just as sweet. I wondered why I had never tried this before. I continued to suck the ruby nectar from my veins. Wonder if all the spots would taste the same. I ripped my shirt a and switched spots biting into a new section of skin. Happily I realized that My stomach pains were ebbing away. The more I drank the better I was beginning to feel. My clothing did suffer. It had rips everywhere from me trying new unbitten areas of skin. Soon the horrible pain stopped all together. It seemed the hardest thing I ever had to do in my life, but somehow, I managed to stop drinking. I licked my lips trying to get all the blood I could off of my face.

Okay, hunger's gone. Next step: getting out of this death box.

I ran my hands lightly over the wooden surface. I knew there was a crack in the board. That's how I'd get out of here. My plan was simple. Push hard on the weakened part of the box, take a huge gulp of air and dig as fast as possible. Hopefully I'd make it toward the surface. If not, well, I might be in a little bit of trouble.

It was the best plan I could think of. And utterly stupid.

Somehow, though, I had a feeling it might just work. I felt strong, stronger than I had ever felt in my whole entire life. And indestructible. In light of recent events, that was weird in itself.

I found the weak board and positioned my fists below it. Drawing back as far as the restraining space would allow I prepared to push the wood. I let loose, slamming my knuckles into it. There was a loud crack. The box split right down the middle.

I tried to get a quick breath. And was smothered. working with what I had, I began to dig my way to the surface. Hopefully it wasn't too far away. I never thought of that. What if I was twenty feet below the surface? I'd never make it. But the ground was reasonably soft from being freshly piled. It hadn't settled yet.

I had no clue how much farther I needed to dig. My lungs were screaming. My eyes scrunched as tight as they would go, and still dirt was making its way in. It was clinging to my skin, my clothes, or what was left of them. The bite marks especially were painful. The dirt found its way into the wounds and seemed to be having a party at my expense. As soon as I got out of here I'd need to clean those. Worst of all, was my stomach. I already was feeling the pangs of hunger.

Pretty sure I'm almost at the top.

I darted a hand forward grabbing for another fistful of dirt and caught nothing but air. My hand flailed about for a bit before I decided to place it on the ground and hoist myself up using my newfound strength.

I broke the surface and collapsed right on top of the dirt, gasping for breath. My stomach growled.

Somehow I knew I wasn't alone even before a breathy voice spoke, "God, _Asho_."

Enveloped in warmth, I just smiled. It was James.

"It worked. I thought you were gone but it worked," he kissed my forehead affectionately.

I hummed happily. I could get used to this treatment.

"I'm sorry I changed you, but it was the only way to keep you alive," James watched me waiting to see what my reaction would be. Waiting for a sign that he did the right thing. He wasn't smiling for once, and actually looked properly handsome without that goofy grin on his face.

I gave a sad smile, "So I did die." It wasn't a question, I knew the answer. "And I'm a..."

"Yeah," James interrupted, "you're a vampire. I changed you," here he offered one of his stupid grins. Well, that explained why the Porter's only ever came at night.

"Sareh?" my voice cracked slightly at the mention of my daughter.

"She's safe with the wealthy woman. Mrs. McCreery," he spoke gently.

"Can I see her?" I asked already knowing the answer.

"It'd be better if you didn't," he must have seen my piteous look because he quickly added, "but that doesn't mean it has to be that way forever. You just need to wait a little. You'll be too hungry to be around people for a while."

"Ok. Hey James?"

"Yes?"

"When I'm ready will you take me to see her?" I needed to know this more than anything.

"The second I know you'll be okay," assured the man, no the vampire who had saved my life.

I thought of all I've been through. All I had lost. All that was yet to come. "Asho, say something," James implored.

"I'm hungry."

James laughed and kissed me full on the lips.

Yeah, I could definitely get used to this.


End file.
